


Dirty Laundry

by mystiri1



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Frottage, Humour, M/M, Underwear, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-29
Updated: 2010-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystiri1/pseuds/mystiri1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started with Laundry Day...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Laundry

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Five Times Cid forgot to put on underwear.
> 
> Also, I'm noticing a theme where stories involving Cid are concerned.

\- 1 -

  


Shera might have taken over most household chores, but Cid put his foot down when it came to some things. His underwear was one of them. He didn't mind if she washed his other clothes, but the idea of her handling his dirty underwear made him cringe, for a multitude of reasons.

Of course, that meant that sometimes he found himself a little low in the clean underwear department, because he wouldn't notice until he ran out. So then Cid would go commando while he did his laundry, and the next day it would be back to business as usual.

It was one such day when AVALANCHE dropped in, and Cid found himself flying away from Rocket Town with ShinRa on his tail. He usually didn't mind going commando – it felt like a small rebellion against Shera and her campaign to keep his household running as smoothly as possible – but he didn't have a chance to pack any other clothes. By the third day, Cid was wishing he'd made a habit of doing his laundry a little more regularly.

\- 2 -

  


The Golden Saucer had plenty of shops, eager to take the money of spend-happy tourists, so Cid figured that it should be easy to remedy his wardrobe lack. But by the time he reached the third shop, he was beginning to despair. He found some pants that were sensible enough, but he refused to wear the loud, brightly printed shirts most outlets were selling, even the ones with the slightly obscene slogans. And he was both puzzled and horrified by the selection of underwear he'd found in all three shops: what kind of self-respecting man wore a thong, especially one made from shiny golden spandex? It just wasn't right. By the fourth shop, he despaired and gave in, buying three of the ridiculous scraps of fabric, because it was better than nothing.

He shoved them to the bottom of the bag, and stepped back out into the square, nearly bumping into Cloud in the process. His cheeks reddened, and the blond shot him a brief, puzzled look, but all he said was, “There's a general store up ahead; I want to get some supplies.”

A general store, not a tourist trap. Cid tagged along, and was pleased to find that among other things, the store sold plain, serviceable clothing for travellers. He picked himself up several pairs of perfectly ordinary white cotton underpants, and resolved to throw the golden spandex monstrosities away.

It was unfortunate that when they left the resort in a hurry, he grabbed the wrong bag.

\- 3 -

  


As far as Cid was concerned, the less said about the Icicle region, the better. Some things should never be placed at risk of frostbite.

\- 4 -

  


Having the Highwind back was like coming home. He'd given her up for the space programme, and never imagined that might come to mean forever; she was his pride and joy, and there was a distinct satisfaction in reclaiming her from ShinRa. Those greedy bastards could never appreciate her the way Cid could, anyway. The way she deserved.

The captain's cabin hadn't changed much, and Cid made himself comfortable in fairly short order. He unpacked his things back into drawers, dirty laundry going in a pile at his feet. He briefly considered trying his chances at getting the girls to take care of it, but he still refused to let any of them handle his underwear – especially Yuffie – so he figured he might as well do all of it. He dragged it into the bathroom that connected to his cabin, and set to work.

He chucked it all in the bathtub, humming the tune to a popular drinking song under his breath while he worked, and draped clean, wet clothing over every available surface. When he was done, he'd take most of it out to one of the decks, hang out a makeshift clothesline. It would be dry in no time.

But Cid had disregarded the fact that the bathroom was shared with the cabin next door. It hadn't really seemed a concern, as Vincent had claimed that one, and the gunman was quiet and unobtrusive. And Cid really wasn't too worried about walking in on him in the shower; if anything, it would satisfy his curiosity about a few things.

So he was surprised when somebody cleared their throat behind him and said, quiet and polite, “I'm sorry, I'll come back later.”

Cid glanced back. “It's okay, I was just doing some -” His voice trailed off as he followed the gunman's gaze to where, along with two pairs of clean white underpants he'd picked up in a coastal village, several of those awful, shiny gold thongs were draped over the towel rail. He'd only worn them when he had nothing else, but there was no telling what Vincent was thinking about him now. Maybe that he _liked_ such ridiculous, flashy underwear. He felt himself flush bright red. “Uh... I can explain -”

But Vincent was gone.

\- 5 -

  


Cloud's little speech about taking time to find what they were fighting for was probably quite inspiring, but Cid had no intention of going anywhere. He had the Highwind, and that was more than enough for him. He puttered around, doing some chores – it was time he did his laundry again, and he was definitely going to have clean underwear when he helped face down Sephiroth, even if it might not be so pristine afterwards – and then headed off to one of the observations decks to enjoy a quiet drink in peace. Not his favoured tea, this time, because possible impending death deserved something stronger. And there was a bottle of Junon Black Label that had been left in the captain's cabin by the previous occupant. He couldn't let such a treasure go to waste.

He was surprised when Vincent joined him. Of course, the gunman didn't really have anywhere to go, either, but he'd never been one for socialising. Cid poured him a glass, too, and they sat there, watching the sun set, exchanging a few quiet words now and then. It was quite pleasant.

It got darker, and the level in the bottle dropped considerably, and at some point, they started exchanging a good deal more than just words. Cid thought that perhaps it was a little clichéd – affirmation of life and all that crap - but as he ground his hips against Vincent's, he didn't much care. If anything, he was a little ticked off that he wouldn't get to do it again if they all got themselves killed tomorrow.

And maybe if it hadn't been awhile since he'd done anything like that, a little frottage wouldn't have been enough to get him off. It was embarrassing enough to come in his pants like a teenaged boy, but when there was no underwear in the way, either... Cid winced when his mind cleared, and he could feel the wet, sticky mess that was probably going to glue his pants to his skin if he didn't get out of them soon.

Yeah, he definitely had to stop going commando on laundry day.


End file.
